Time ceased to exist, seconds blending into minutes, minutes converging into an immeasurable eternity. Courtney’s fingers relaxed, her palms opening, gliding up Slayde’s shirt to the breadth of his shoulders, her arms entwining about his neck. In turn, he lowered himself until his shirt just brushed the soft swell of her breasts, balancing himself on his elbows so as to carefully avoid her ribs. His own hands, unable to remain still, roamed up and down the silken skin of her arms, her shoulders, her neck, savoring the quivers of response his touch evoked.
“Courtney.” He said her name in a reverent whisper, his lips leaving hers to feather across her cheeks, his tongue absorbing the tears still glistening there. He kissed her nose, her lids, the corners of her mouth, before returning to her lips, brushing them in a slow, eloquent wisp of motion. “Don’t cry.”
“I won’t,” she promised, her voice breathless, swamped in sensation.
Her innocence, her honesty, intensified Slayde’s rampaging emotions almost beyond bearing. With a strangled groan, he buried his lips in hers once more, tugging her closer, giving in a way he’d never given, taking in a way he’d never longed to take.
Later, looking back on this unprecedented madness, Slayde wondered what would have happened had Courtney not, at that precise moment, winced with pain. But she did—and the motion was like a slap to his unfocused senses.
“Courtney?” He raised up, searched her face. “Is it your ribs or your head?”
>
“My ribs.” Her lids lifted, her eyes still dazed with wonder. “ ’Twas only a sting. I’m fine. Truly.” Hesitantly, her fingertips brushed Slayde’s mouth, and she gazed up at him as if to verify the events of the past few minutes. “Did this really just happen?”
He felt as incredulous as she. “I think it did, yes.” He inhaled shakily, lowering himself beside her, drawing her closer until her head was tucked beneath his chin. “I should apologize.”
“Don’t.”
“Are you all right?”
Courtney nodded. “A bit dizzy, but fine. More than fine, actually. I feel as if I’m floating. What’s more, I’m not at all sure I want to descend to the ground. Or to reality, for that matter. I’d rather stay on this extraordinary cloud you’ve given me.”
What in God’s name was he allowing to happen? “Courtney—”
“I must sound absurd,” she interrupted self-consciously. “ ’Tis just that this was my first kiss. And while I’ve ofttimes tried to imagine what it would be like, nothing prepared me for the deep, sweeping magic—” She broke off, and Slayde could feel her face flame against his throat. “Did you ever notice that in the darkness you can say things you could never say in the light? ’Tis almost as if time is suspended until dawn.”
Slayde swallowed, staring at the ceiling. “That applies not only to words, but to actions as well.”
“Yes, I suppose it does.”
The hurt in her voice tore at his heart, but he was helpless to alleviate it. Still reeling from his own unfathomable behavior, he saw that one thing was glaringly obvious; he had to leave her—now—before things got out of hand. Courtney Johnston was a beautiful, unspoiled young woman who was alone, vulnerable, and untouched, not only physically, but emotionally as well. Despite the severity of her personal loss, her exposure to the world and all its ugliness was nil. He could not, would not, immerse her in the hell that was intrinsically tied to his life as a Huntley—despite the staggering feelings she inspired in him.
Or, perhaps because of them.
’Twas one thing to permit her to exist on the periphery of his existence, as Aurora’s companion, as a houseguest. But a deeper, more poignant involvement? When she had a world of pain behind her and a wealth of life ahead? No. Whatever unprecedented sensations were stirring to life within him, whatever bizarre transition was propelling him toward her, he owed it to her to fight it—before it truly began.
Before it was too late.
“Go to sleep, Courtney,” he murmured, coming to his feet and easing her head to the pillow. “You need rest. And so do I. I’m leaving for Morland in the morning.”
For a moment, she said nothing, just staring at him in the semidarkened room. Then she nodded, settling herself amidst the bedcovers. “I pray you learn something—something that will give us both a measure of peace. And Slayde?” She raised up on her elbows, her hair sweeping the pillow in a shimmering, moonlit waterfall. “Thank you—for the comfort and the cloud.”
Chapter 5
THE WIND WHIPPED ABOUT the Red Cliffs.
Miss Payne shivered, drawing her shawl higher around her shoulders as she eased into the alcove and approached the formidable figure awaiting her.
“You’re late,” the icy voice pronounced. “I instructed you to be here at nine. It’s twenty minutes past.”
“I know—and I apologize. But I had to be certain no one at Pembourne saw me leave. As it is, the earl wasn’t yet abed when I slipped away. ’Twould have been better if I’d lingered until he was. But I didn’t want to detain you.”
The glittering gaze bore into hers. “What did you learn?”
Miss Payne drew a sharp breath. “From the snatches of conversation I’ve managed to overhear, ’twould seem that Armon took matters into his own hands. The second ransom note arrived at Pembourne a day earlier than your orders specified. That very night, his lordship dashed off to comply with the kidnapper’s terms. The girl he returned with is the daughter of the sea captain whose ship Armon seized—and she bears a striking resemblance to Lady Aurora. Apparently, there was a struggle, during which time the girl—Miss Johnston—toppled overboard. Lord Pembourne dived in after her and—”
“I don’t give a damn about the girl. What about the diamond?”